America's Murder Party
by Canengland
Summary: It was a dark and stormy Fourth of July...  You know where this is going.
1. Chapter 1

**Part one**

POP!

"Gah! Al! Stop popping balloons!"

"Shut up England, it's my birthday, don't tell me what to do!"

"I'll tell what to do if I bloody well want to!"

"You're just being a sore loser!"

POP!

"America! Would you just stop it with the balloons?"

"No way!"

POP!

"Waaah!"

"Look, you made Italy cry!"

America stopped popping the balloons, but only because Germany was now heading his way, looking like he wanted to throw a car at America's head. That was never a good sign. At least the party had only just started, so he hadn't had time to break into the beer. Russia was making a beeline for the window, trying to shut it before Belarus climbed in. He ran straight into Germany who started shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Look where you're going, you verdammt alcoholic!"

"What did you just call me?"

"Only what you are."

"Oh, now you're just looking for a fight, da?"

"Just get the hell out of my way!"

Russia then noticed that Belarus had climbed in the window and took off running. Germany glared after him and went in search of beer. America hung his head. This party was not going as planned. Germany had gotten into shouting matches with his brother, Romano, and now Russia. China kept trying to steal all the food, Korea was groping people, Austria was complaining that there was no good music, and England was yelling at him. Japan was sitting in the corner, trying to avoid getting involved in any of the arguments. To top it all off, it had been getting cloudier all day and now looked like it could pour at any minute, which pretty much nixed the fireworks America had planned. And…now there was crashing and shouting coming from the next room.

America ran in to find Prussia and Germany wrestling. It looked like they were fighting over a bottle of beer. Of course. France and Spain were egging Prussia on while Italy was sing-songing "Germany~ Germany~ Germany is strong~ If you win, can I have pasta~?" America groaned.

Suddenly, there was a series of loud bangs.

BOOM! POP POP SISS! CRACKLE HISS BANG! BANG BANG BANG! BOOM! HISS BOOM! BOOM BOOM BANG BANG CRACK BOOM **BOOM**!

Everyone ran out into the hall towards the source of the explosions. Red, white, and blue sparks were shooting out of the doorway of the storage room. Hong Kong ran out, beating out the flames licking at his sleeves. England glared at him.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to play with fireworks?"

"I'm sorry!"

"Just be more careful next time. You could have burned the house down."

Everyone calmed down and filed back into the other room. Then someone started screaming.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

Everyone ran upstairs towards the sound of the screaming. When they got upstairs they found Belarus standing over Russia's body. He was covered in blood. Belarus was shaking.

"I just came up here to get away from the noise and b-brother…wa-was just lying…lying there. H-he wo-won't move." Tears dripped down her face.

England bent over the body and closed Russia's eyes. Everyone stared at him in shocked silence. He shook his head. Ukraine broke through the crowd and stood beside her sister, both of them openly sobbing now.

"I'm so sorry." England turned to France.

"François, get a sheet or something."

"Bien sûr."

As France moved off to find something to wrap the body in, England ushered everyone else back downstairs. Once everyone had been hustled into the living room England turned to Belarus, who was slumped in an armchair.

"Natalia," England spoke gently, "You're the one who found the body. Did you see anyone else?"

"If I saw anyone I would have killed them!" Belarus glared around the room and no one doubted her. They all knew she carried knives with her everywhere.

Everyone looked around the room. One of them had to have done it, the only question was who. America buried his head in his hands. This couldn't be happening. Not in his house, not on his birthday.

"Well it bloody well is, so suck it up Yank," England muttered. America hadn't realized that he had been whispering aloud.

"Fine," America muttered, then louder, "I'll deal with this."

"Who says you know what you're doing? I'll handle this, git."

"Oh yeah England? What makes you so frickin' qualified to deal with it?"

England rounded on him. "I had the biggest empire the world has ever known, I colonized every continent but Antarctica, and I had to run that, way back in the days before computers, or telephones, or even telegraph! Half the time I was fighting at least two wars at once, at least one of which was always against France, I had to deal with _you_ trying to invade Canada, and I dealt with _Australia_! That place was populated by criminals and even their earthworms are three feet long, blue, and glow in the dark! Now! Just which one of us do you think is better qualified to deal with the situation?"

"But, but…I'm…" America whimpered.

"And if you say that you're the hero I will slap you into next week! Don't think I 'ave a soft spot for you, just 'cos I put up with you! I 'ate this day, I 'ate coming to this stupid party every year, an' I 'ate seein' you lookin' so well chuffed about it! An' I _hate_ that you make me angry enough to sound cockney!"

By now everyone was moving away from England who had turned brick red and looked like he was just seconds away from beating everything within reach to a bloody pulp. Only France moved towards him.

"Angleterre, you really need to calm down. You can yell at Alfred later."

"François! Pas maintenant! Laissez-moi tranquille!"

Now everyone was really surprised. They had never heard England speak French. But France didn't seem to find it odd at all. He just sighed, held up his hands and murmured, "D'accord." After a few minutes England calmed down and glanced around at everyone still staring at him.

"Well," he snapped, "What are you all staring at, let's go try the phones and call 911."

France leaned over and whispered something to him. England groaned.

"Alright everyone, the phones are down. I recommend we move off to other areas of the house in groups to try the cell phone reception."

"Isn't the first thing you learn from horror movies not to split up?"

"That's why I said we should go in groups, Alfred," England growled.

No one wanted to disagree with England after his rant at America. They divided themselves up into groups and everyone moved off to different parts of the house. No one was having much luck with cell phone reception and America was complaining that he couldn't find his and someone must have stolen it when a loud clatter and a series of thumps came from the front hall, followed by someone, it sounded like France, yelling.

Everyone came crashing into the front hall to find France kneeling over Seychelles who lay sprawled on the floor. At least no one saw any blood. England pushed his way through the crowd again and knelt beside France. In the silence of America's front hallway, no one said a word. They just stood, clustered at the foot of the stairs, watching France and England, arms wrapped around each other, cradling Seychelles' body. No one needed to ask. They all knew she was dead. There was no other way France and England would be holding each other.

After what seemed like half an hour but was probably only a few minutes, France scooped up Seychelles' body and carried her into the spare bedroom where he had put Russia's body. Neither he nor England looked at anyone. Once again they all filed into the living room and this time everyone was jumpier and people were beginning to eye their friends and even their siblings. Still no one spoke, but everyone understood, they were getting to the bottom of this, and whoever the killer was, once England and, oh God, Belarus found out who they were, there would be Hell to pay.

Translations:

Bien sûr: Of course

François! Pas maintenant! Laissez-moi tranquille!: François! Not now! Leave me alone!

D'accord: Okay


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

"I think Prussia did it!"

"What?"

"He hates Russia!"

"But why kill Seychelles?"

"To throw us off the scent!"

"Oh come _on_! That's my older brother you're talking about!"

"You argued with Russia earlier too Germany, so how we know _you_ didn't do it?"

"Why would I kill him if it would be so obvious it was me?"

"Cuz you're stupid like that!"

"My brother's afraid of Russia, so how could he kill him?"

"West!"

"It's true! I'm sticking up for you, dummkopf!"

"We weren't even upstairs, so how could we have pushed Seychelles? Now everyone knows I'm scared of Russia!"

"Russia's known he scared you for years! I don't think it's going to change anything now that everyone else knows!"

"Fine! Just since we're accusing people, I say it was Belarus!"

"WHAT? WHY WOULD I KILL BROTHER, YOU HORRIBLE ALBINO?"

"Because you're a psychopath! He probably told you to get lost and you knifed him!"

"SHUT UP! The lot of you! Two people are dead, we don't know who killed them, who knows, maybe it was _Murder on the Orient Express_,or _Strangers on a Train_, or even _And Then There were None_! We have absolutely _no way_ of knowing who killed them, why, or who's next! "

"So what do we do now?"

"We stay in this room until the phones are back up. Then we call the police. No one leaves this room unless absolutely necessary, and then only with at least four other people with them. We can't take any chances."

Some people were still tempted to ask who had died and made England the boss, but after his blow up at America, no one wanted to push it. So they sat, for no one knew how long, until the clock struck ten. Then, the lights went out.

Everyone started shouting and crashing into each other in the dark and they could hear England shouting, "Nobody move! Just stay where you are until the lights come back on!" Italy was crying and calling for Germany, who was looking for Prussia. Spain kept shouting for Romano even though Romano had told him to stay where he was.

Then, America felt something hard hit the back of his head and he lost consciousness.

When he came to the lights had come back on. America looked around him in horror. He was still in his living room, everyone was still there, but now they were all covered in blood, their clothes sliced to ribbons. America backed into a corner, shuddering. How long had he been out? It must have been the killer who hit him, but if they didn't want any witnesses why leave him and kill everyone else? Were they coming back for him? This was worse than any horror movie America had ever watched. As he heard someone approaching in the hall America tensed, afraid to even breathe. England stood in the doorway.

"Dear God in Heaven! What have you done, Alfred? What have you done?"

"Me?"

"Look at your hands, Al! Look!"

America stared at his hands as England commanded. They were covered in blood and beside where he had been sitting lay a kitchen knife, its blade shining red in the light. Then he felt the dull pain at the back of his head and passed out again. When he came to again England lay sprawled face-down in front of him, blood pooling beneath his chest. The knife was in America's hand.

America shook his head, not wanting to believe it. He couldn't have killed all those people. His friends, Kiku, his brother, Matthew, everyone. And now England. Sure, England irritated him sometimes, always acting like he was smarter than America, making fun of his movies, but he never hated him enough to kill him. For a few minutes America just sat there in shock. It just wasn't sinking in. Any second now everyone would get up and laugh it off. They had to. But still nobody moved. America bent to scoop England up in his arms, cradling him like a baby.

"I'm so sorry," He whispered into England's shoulder, "I didn't mean to. I don't remember. I didn't want to…"

"Good job you didn't then. Buck up love, it was only a prank," England whispered back.

"WHAT?" America almost dropped England.

"Oi, no need to shout in my ear," England sat up. "It was all a trick, Al. Sorry 'bout that but I mean, come on, like you wouldn't have pulled something like that on me for Halloween?"

"But it's my _birthday_!" America fumed.

"My point exactly. When I was ranting at you earlier I wasn't acting. That really is how I feel about your birthday. I was actually going to save this one for Halloween, but the weather was going to be perfect so I just had to step up my birthday prank."

"I- I- I cannot _believe_ you did this! On my _birthday_! And everyone was in on it?"

"Yep."

Everyone was beginning to sit up around them, stretching and looking forlornly at their ripped and stained clothes.

"Sorry America," Germany said, "But you can just be so annoying. Besides, if given the chance, you would prank any one of us, half of us you already have, so we figured fair play and got some payback."

"Okay, but who knocked me out? And how did they get me in that corner?"

"There are curtains here, da?" Russia stuck his head out from around them. "Oh and Prussia? I have known I scare you for quite some time, Зайчик мой."

"I don't know what you just called me, but nein! Get lost, creep!"

America shook his head. He was still having trouble adjusting to this.

"So, it was all a prank? All of it?"

"One hundred percent. I must say, we did a good job acting the part didn't we?" England grinned.

America glared at him. "I would hate you for this, but you're right, I would pull this on someone. Just be glad you thought of it first."

"Alfred, I don't think that would have been a problem. I actually read murder mysteries while you don't even watch them on telly. Besides, now that we're all on the same page, why don't we get on with the actual party? There's cake and ice cream."

"ICE CREAM? GIMME IT NOW~!"

"Same old Alfred. See? I told you guys he'd be fine once we told him about the ice cream," England laughed.

America had already torn out of the room towards the kitchen. Nothing motivated him quite like the promise of ice cream. England smiled as he shook his head.

"Oh Alfred, what am I going to do with you?"

Translations:

Зайчик мой: My bunny


End file.
